After a weekend’s respite, London grabs Vanya by the scruff of the neck and shakes him. Even late on Sunday evening, the station concourse bustles. People tug wheeled suitcases along crowded platforms with no regard for others’ ankles, or they grip the hands of grizzling children, awake far past their usual bedtime. It’s loud and brash and strident, like the city beyond the ticket barriers—such a contrast to Moreton-in-Marsh where he woke to the sound of birdsong and to a sleepy morning hand job.

More of that life is what he wants most.

His pace slows while others around him hurry.

But more of that life depends on being truthful.

The journey home has only proven that, Vanya’s conscience coiling like a hangman’s noose, demanding a decision.

Should he tell the truth right now, or should he prolong Jason’s belief that he can help Chantel for a little longer?

The fact that she has no family, like him, plucks hard at Vanya’s heartstrings.

Another train arrives while he mentally scrambles, its brakes emitting a squeal sharp enough to jolt him. He blinks and finds Jason watching, waiting for Vanya to catch up, standing steady while travellers stream around him, unmoved as he’s jostled. He holds out a hand and asks, “Where’s your ticket, slowcoach?”

“Slowcoach? Oh.” Vanya fumbles in his back pocket, fingers numb as if his heart requires a buffer, drawing all of his blood inward. It throbs hard for some reason as he clumsily flips his wallet open. It’s empty apart from the ticket, Oyster card, and a single five-pound note. When he looks up, Jason’s smile is reserved for the first time during the whole weekend. Whatever he says is lost as a loud announcement echoes. “I’m didn’t hear,” Vanya admits. “Say again, please?”

Jason guides him away from the busy ticket barrier. “I said, do you have enough cash to get home? If you didn’t bring your bank card, I can top up your Oyster card for you.” Jason’s hand on his arm mirrors the grip London has on him. He’s trapped between truth and fiction until the government decides whether to keep or deport him. Being cash strapped in this city is an awful spot to be in, but Jason doesn’t know that. He only asks the most reasonable of questions. “Or were you planning on getting the bus? If you need some more cash until you get home—” He reaches for his own wallet.

“No.” Vanya shakes his head. There’s no way in hell he’s taking another penny for himself from this man under false pretences. “Have enough to get home.” He’ll walk if he has to. “Have plenty.”

“We could share a cab, then,” Jason offers. “I could drop you on the way.”

And see exactly where Vanya calls home? “No.” His headshake is emphatic. “Live in opposite direction. Would be waste of your time.”

“Maybe I just want to put off saying goodbye.” Jason almost seems embarrassed. “This weekend….” It’s his turn to shake his head. “I can’t get over how being at Riversmeet with you was so easy. It was the best weekend in ages.” He shrugs. “I don’t want it to end yet.”

It would be easy to keep it going.

So easy.

He could go home with Jason right now and pick up where they left off by sinking into a bed that’s clean and warm and cosy.

Jason’s honesty jabs like one of Anna’s sewing needles. “I really don’t want this to be over.” His tone roughens. “Do you?” He lets out a quick, relieved puff when Vanya shakes his head. “Good. That’s….” His smile reaches his eyes. Hell, it reaches the station rafters. “That’s great. Come home with me tonight then.”

“Can’t.” His excuse sounds hollow, but Jason doesn’t seem to notice. “Have busy day tomorrow. Need to get ready.”

“I could set an early alarm for you,” Jason counters. “You could use my washing machine too, if you don’t have a change of clothes. And my dryer as well.” Another announcement echoes. Jason repeats what he was saying. “Then, if your friend is working in the wedding department tomorrow, we could kill two birds with one stone.” Vanya’s silence makes him rephrase. “I mean, we could travel in together, and then I could speak to him about what Chantel still needs help with.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I will speak to him.”

It only takes a second for Jason to jump to a conclusion. “Ah! Because Chantel would be a private client? Yeah, perhaps it’s better if you two talk first. How about meeting up after?”

“After?”

“After I finish work. Come to my place tomorrow.” Again, Jason acts like the whole world can’t see them. He tugs one strap of his bag to pull Vanya nearer. His kiss is a promise, lingering like his smile. “I’ll cook for you again.” He pulls out his ticket. “Talk to your friend and then come to dinner. Say yes,” he instructs.

Vanya says, “Yes,” when the correct answer has to be no. Involving Kaspar will only make telling the truth much harder. What he needs to do is confess while there’s still some small chance of forgiveness.

Explanations rattle through his head like a train along rail tracks—I was scared and out of options. I feared for more people than me. That’s why I took your money. And that’s why I used the address you mentioned. You were meant to be a client. Now you’re someone who matters. I wish—but Jason’s gone before he can verbalise them, swallowed up by London.

* * *

Returning to the squat knocks any wishful thinking out of Vanya’s system. It’s late by the time he gets there, the dark-orange of the city night sky only a faint reminder of the warm glow cast by the wood stove he sat close to last night. He walks fast, sticking to where streetlights shed light until he gets to the alley.

It’s not just dimly lit at this time of night.

It’s completely pitch black.

His steps slow and falter.

“Don’t be stupid,” he tells himself. “Nobody’s there.”

Still, the gap slicing between buildings is deeply shadowed, just like….

His skin prickles.

“Fuck.” He steels his shoulders only to jump out of his skin when something unseen skitters.

A shape looms, tall and broad and hulking.

Vanya turns away so fast that he almost trips over his feet, lashing out with closed fists when his elbow is grasped.

“Hey! Hey! It’s me,” Kaspar quickly says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared.” What’s one more lie after all the others? Vanya shakes free of his hold. “What the fuck are you doing hiding in the shadows?” He speaks fast, only pausing when Kaspar catches hold of his arm again, his smile barely visible. “What are you smiling at?”

“I spoke to you in Russian, but you replied in English.”

An approaching car illuminates his face, its headlights revealing a strange expression Vanya can’t judge before the vehicle passes. “So what?”

“It’s the first time you’ve done that.” Kaspar replies in English as well and drapes an arm across Vanya’s shoulders. “I guess staying with your client must have gone well if you can’t stop speaking English.”

“He’s not my client.”

“I know.” Kaspar steers Vanya into darkness that seems absolute until his vision adapts. “Come on. It’s going to rain any minute. I thought I was going to get soaked before you turned up.”

“You were waiting for me?” Vanya stops dead. “How long have you been down here?”

“Half an hour, maybe? Not long,” he shrugs. “Anna looked up the train times, so I figured you wouldn’t be much longer.”

Vanya follows him around the scaffolding and netting that masks the building, fingertips brushing over brickwork, solid in a way that Riversmeet had felt too, but the building he enters isn’t a fraction as warm and welcoming. “You didn’t have to wait for me,” he starts.

Kaspar shuts him down immediately. “We both know you would have survived walking through a pitch-black alley, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to make it easier for you.” He’s no-nonsense about it, like aversion to dark places is normal in a grown man.

Vanya’s chest aches at this simple caring, then it seizes when Kaspar admits, “I needed to get out for a minute.”

“What happened? Did you and Anna fall out?” A month ago, that news would have cheered him. Even a few weeks back, his acceptance of her was pragmatic, three people saving for a way out so much faster than two. Tonight his concern is genuine. “I thought you really liked each other?”

“We do. It’s just I had some bad news.” Kaspar shrugs and mumbles. “My hours have been cut back to almost nothing at work. They say I’ll get more at Christmas, but that’s months away!”

“And she’s unhappy about that?”

“No. Well yes, but only because she’s pissed off for me. She’s looking for more night shifts at the restaurant to make up the difference until I find something better.”

For once, Vanya has something to offer. “You don’t like the idea of being supported?” He wishes that Kaspar didn’t have to learn this lesson. “I get it. But doesn’t it say a lot about her?”

“Who? Anna?”

“Yes.” And this is the biggest lesson London’s taught him. “It’s a sign that she must really like you if she sticks by you when you’ve got no money.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” The stairwell is so dark it’s inky. Vanya hardly notices, his hand on Kaspar’s elbow as they both climb stairs they can barely see. “So stop moping and start feeling lucky.”

Finding Anna waiting at the top of the staircase confirms Vanya’s judgement. She downplays Kaspar’s work situation as a minor setback even as her smile of greeting tightens. “It will be okay. I’ll find a way to make up the difference.” Then she changes the subject. “How was your weekend?” She moves back as he enters the space they share.

“It was good, but….” Vanya stops in the doorway.

Somehow, a canopy has been rigged up surrounding all their couches. Fabric flows down to tent them, lit by lights so tiny they could be distant stars that flicker. It makes the space magical instead of miserable, something he wouldn’t have believed possible. “How…?”

Anna’s so proud. He sees her real smile instead of that tight one. “The window dressers at work were getting rid of this.” She touches fabric that might be midnight blue in daylight. “This was a backdrop. I was going to make curtains to try to keep out the cold. Then I worried someone might notice from street level, so Kaspar helped me make a canopy instead.”

“And these?” Vanya touches a string of fairy lights that dangle. The glow they emit is faint but welcome. “How—?”

“Solar powered,” Kaspar explains. “They were part of the same display, about to get thrown out.” He shrugs. “It’s not stealing if I found them outside in the rubbish.” Vanya’s not about to argue; he’s charmed, reminded of blanket forts he built for his sister. He nods when Kaspar says, “Now it won’t be so dark in the evenings.”

“It is getting dark so much earlier now,” Anna adds. “I thought they would make it nicer for us while we’re still here.”

Vanya can’t repress a shiver. Despite what he said about home being much colder, he hasn’t ever lived without heating. “It is getting cooler.”

Kaspar opens the canopy. “That’s why I moved all the couches closer together. The fabric will keep out the draughts. I’m just sorry that we’ll have to stay here for a while longer until I find more work.” He turns away.

Vanya quietly asks Anna. “How close are we to having enough for a deposit?”

Her headshake says enough. “I’ll work harder. They haven’t cut my hours yet, and I could pick up more shifts waiting tables at night.” Her tone isn’t at all blaming when she says, “It’s a shame you started dating your client.” She touches one of the fairy lights with the tip of a finger. “If he paid you for a few more weeks, we’d be out of here in no time.”

“Yes.”

At Riversmeet he forgot that this is real life. He fell so easily back into expecting creature comforts, like hot water and heating, but here he has to face the real truth.

“Yes,” he faintly repeats.

A few more weeks of being paid by Jason could make all the difference, especially now only one of them is working close to full-time.

“But,” Kaspar allows, “that’s the cost of falling for someone. It fucks up any chance of you making a profit from him.”

It’s a reality that makes Vanya come to a decision.

“You’re right. I can’t let Jason pay me again. I-I mean… I could, but I don’t want to.” He lifts his chin to meet the gaze of his best friend before shifting it to Anna.

“But I know he’ll pay you.”